DW DXD Remastered Chapter 10: Kindness Against Cruelty (Patreon)

Berserker’s hollow, glowing eyes flared a deep, bloodthirsty crimson as they locked onto Saber. The shift was immediate and violent, like a predator finally recognizing its most hated prey. A distorted, guttural growl tore from deep within his armored chest, the sound warped and metallic, echoing across the docks like the roar of a beast breaking its chains.

The madness within him clawed its way to the surface. Even through the warped distortion of his aura, there was something unmistakably focused in that killing intent, a grudge, ancient and personal, aimed squarely at the King of Knights.

“Irisviel, get back.” Saber warned sharply, stepping slightly forward as she noticed his aggressive stance turn fully toward her.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Berserker lunged.

He surged forward like a cannon shot, the concrete beneath his feet cracking from the sheer force of his movement. A monstrous force of rage incarnate, he cut across the battlefield in a blur of black steel and twisted hatred.

His blackened gauntlet shot out as he closed the distance, seizing a jagged steel beam from the debris-strewn docks. The moment his clawed fingers wrapped around it, the metal groaned and warped. Rust and grime burned away as the beam twisted and cracked in his grip.

In the span of a breath, it transformed.

Energy rippled through the steel, its dull surface turning slick and lethal. The warped chunk of scrap now pulsed like a forged relic, its deadly edge honed by Berserker’s unique ability to turn anything he touched into a Noble Phantasm.

“So that's it. Whatever he grabs becomes his Noble Phantasm.” Rider observed, eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and excitement.

Saber’s grip on her invisible sword tightened, knuckles whitening around the unseen hilt. She shifted her weight, her stance solidifying as she raised her blade to meet the incoming strike. Her boots dug into the cracked concrete, bracing her body against the hurricane of force that was about to crash into her.

When Berserker swung, the impact was like a lightning strike.

The blackened weapon smashed against her invisible sword, the shock of the blow screaming down her arms and rattling her bones. Dust and fragments of stone exploded around their feet, the ground itself protesting under the colliding power.

The hatred radiating from Berserker was overwhelming, raw, poisonous, and unmistakably directed at her. Even without seeing his face, Saber could feel it, this was no random madness. This was personal.

——------------------------

“Maiya. Do you have a visual on Berserker's Master?”

Kiritsugu’s voice was clipped, taut with tension. From his vantage point, he watched through the scope as Saber struggled to defend herself against Berserker's relentless onslaught, the black knight’s blows growing more savage by the second. His rifle tracked through the shadows, searching for any hint of Berserker’s hidden Master.

“No, I don't.” Maiya replied curtly over the radio, her own sniper scope sweeping along the rooftops. “No visuals. Nothing matching a Master’s signature.” Frustration laced her usually flat tone.

Down below, Berserker’s warped, makeshift weapon cleaved through the air with devastating force, blackened steel howling as it descended toward Saber like a guillotine.

Before it could connect another blow, a flash of crimson steel intercepted it.

Lancer appeared in a blur, his twin spears crossing mid-air, catching the corrupted Noble Phantasm with a bone-jarring clang. Sparks burst outward in a shower of light as the weapons ground against each other, the impact sending a shockwave through the cracked pavement.

“What are you?” Saber breathed in disbelief, eyes widening. Her former opponent, who had sworn to defeat her, now stood between her and certain death.

“That's enough messing around, Berserker!” Lancer snarled, his golden eyes blazing as he held his ground against the mad Servant. His muscles strained, but his stance did not falter. “Saber has a prior engagement with me. If you insist on interfering, you'll have to face me!”

Berserker answered with another guttural roar and wrenched his weapon back.

The two Servants clashed again.

Berserker swung his warped blade in a brutal downward arc, raw strength behind every strike, each blow strong enough to tear through steel and bone alike. Lancer met him step for step, twin spears flashing as they deflected and diverted those monstrous swings. Speed and precision against unrestrained fury, the ground quaked beneath their exchanges, fragments of stone kicking up around their feet.

From a distant rooftop, Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald watched the scene unfold, the battlefield reflected in the air before him. His lips curled into a cold sneer.

“What are you doing, Lancer? This is your chance to defeat Saber,” He growled, his voice projected to his Servant across the battlefield via magecraft.

“I, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, will defeat Saber. I swear it on my honor!” Lancer’s voice was firm, even as he held Berserker at bay. “If you insist I kill her here, then I will first defeat that mad dog. Please, my Master!” His plea was laced with urgency, but it was met only with cold, aristocratic disdain.

“With my Command Seal, I order you,” Kayneth declared. He raised his hand, the crimson glow of the Command Seal illuminating his palm with oppressive radiance.

“My lord!” Lancer’s eyes widened, genuine desperation cracking through his usual composure but it was too late.

“Help Berserker kill Saber.” The Command Seal flared with power.

Lancer’s body jerked violently, his muscles seizing as the absolute authority of the Command Seal crashed down on his will. His face contorted with frustration and anger as his feet moved against his wishes, his spears turning away from Berserker and refocusing on Saber.

“Perfect,” Kayneth muttered darkly from his rooftop, satisfaction dripping from the word. The sight of Lancer and Berserker together, cornering Saber, was far too good an opportunity for him to waste.

“Damn it!” Lancer hissed between clenched teeth, though he could do nothing. The Command Seal’s binding force gripped him like chains, dragging him toward the one opponent he least wished to strike under such dishonorable terms.

Saber’s emerald eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as she found herself facing not one, but two enemies, one maddened and cursed, the other bound by duty and a Master’s order.

“I'm sorry, Irisviel.” She didn’t take her eyes off the two approaching Servants. “I shall hold them here. While I do, you must run. As far away as you can get. Irisviel, please!” Determination hardened her features, if this was to become a last stand, then she would make it worthy of her title.

“It's all right, Saber. Believe in your Master!” Irisviel’s voice trembled, but her eyes shone with conviction. ‘Kiritsugu, I know that you can still turn this to victory.’

‘Kiritsugu is here?’ Saber thought, momentarily distracted, her gaze flicking across the darkened rooftops as she tried to locate her unseen Master.

Even surrounded on all sides by enemies, the King of Knights straightened her back. If Kiritsugu was watching… then she would not fall here.

———--------------------------------------

Seeing that Saber could not take on two Servants at once, especially with one arm injured and her movements growing ever so slightly constrained, Kiritsugu made his decision.

He watched through his scope as Lancer and Berserker closed in, their killing intent converging on Saber like twin blades at her throat. Even with her skill, even with her pride, the odds were too steep. If this continues, she’ll be overwhelmed. I can’t let that happen. Not here.

He shifted his aim away from the clash of legends and toward the distant rooftop where Lancer’s Master stood. The faint outline of Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald shimmered in his sight, framed by his own barrier and arrogance, untouched and untested.

‘Take one piece off the board. Break the tandem. Give Saber a fair fight.’ His breathing slowed.

“I can kill Lancer's Master now. It's the only way out of this.” His voice was low, clinical. “Maiya, attack Assassin on my mark.”

If Assassin interfered at the wrong moment, his shot could fail. First, he had to remove the protector in the shadows.

“Acknowledged.” Maiya’s reply came back immediately, calm and steady. From her own hidden perch, she adjusted her sniper rifle, barrel tracking toward Assassin’s position. Her finger settled on the trigger, eyes narrowing behind the scope as she lined up the shot.

Two rifles. Two unseen hunters.

And in the middle of it all, under the weight of three Servants’ killing intent, Saber stood her ground, waiting for the invisible support she could not see, but had chosen to believe in.

———-----------------------------------

Issei Hyoudou clenched his fists, frustration boiling in his chest as he watched the situation twist into something ugly.

Lancer’s face said everything, the tension in his jaw, the way his feet resisted that forward step toward Saber, the tiny hesitation in his stance.

“Why is he doing this? It's obvious he doesn't want to team up against Saber.” Issei muttered, teeth grinding.

“That would be due to the Command Seals that you also have, my husband.” Tamamo explained calmly, as if giving a lecture. Her words made Issei glance down at his own hand. “With it you can command me to do anything, even against my will. And just like me, Lancer has to obey his master's orders.”

“That’s…!” Disgust twisted in his gut as Sherri’s earlier explanation flashed through his memory at how an absolute command could override a Servant’s will. Back then, he’d shrugged it off as just another rule of this warped game. But seeing Lancer forced into something that clearly went against his pride.

His expression hardened. He made a firm decision now that he would never use it. “Tamamo, can you please help her out!” He said, eyes fixed on Saber as she stood facing down two Servants at once.

“My, my. A dutiful wife can not ignore her husband’s plea for help.” Tamamo’s three golden tails flicked with excitement, her lips curling in a foxlike smile. “Though I wish it wasn't to help another woman, but I was getting bored.”

With a swirl of pink magic, she leaped towards the fight, her form blurring as she entered the battlefield, divine curses already glowing around her.

Rider let out a boisterous laugh as he heard the brown-haired boy shout. “You’ve got guts, boy! I like it!”

—---------------

Up above, on the rooftops, two snipers steadied their breaths, fingers tightening on triggers.

Just as Kiritsugu and Maiya were about to fire—

The thunder of hooves cracked through the night.

Rider’s chariot crashed into the fray like a living thunderbolt, golden wheels cutting deep grooves into the pavement as they slammed onto the docks. With his sword leveled, Rider barreled straight toward Lancer.

The impact was brutal.

The chariot smashed into Lancer’s side just as he moved in to strike Saber. The sheer force sent the spearman skidding backward, boots scraping sparks from the ground as he fought to maintain his footing.

Meanwhile, Tamamo’s hands danced through the air, fingers tracing graceful arcs as pink sigils formed in spiraling patterns around her. “Cursed Binding—Heavenly Tether!”

The ground beneath Berserker cracked and glowed. A moment later, glowing chains erupted upward, coiling around his arms and legs. They snapped tight with a metallic shriek, halting his next swing mid-motion. The mad Servant roared in fury, black energy pulsing against the bindings as he strained to break free.

From his distant perch, Kayneth cursed under his breath. “Damn them. They're interfering.”

On the dock, Rider straightened to his full imposing height, cloak billowing as he pointed his sword outward like a commanding baton.

“Master of Lancer. I know not from whence you're watching, but do not sully a battle between knights with your petty tricks. Have Lancer withdraw.” His voice boomed like a king delivering judgment. “If you insist on humiliating him further, then we shall join Saber. Together, the four of us will annihilate your Servant. What will it be?”

The threat was clear: push this any further, and Kayneth wouldn’t just be taking on Saber, he’d be inviting Rider and Caster into the fight as well.

Realizing the battle had turned against him, Kayneth grit his teeth so hard it hurt. “Withdraw, Lancer. That's enough for tonight.” He withdrew his control, Command Seal’s grip loosening, ordering Lancer to disengage.

“My thanks, King of Conquerors, and to you two as well.” Lancer said, genuine gratitude in his voice as control over his limbs returned to him.

“It was nothing. I enjoy watching the flowers of a battlefield in bloom.” Rider responded, sounding almost poetic about the whole bloody mess.

“Yeah, plus your master was making a dick move.” Issei added bluntly from the sidelines, earning himself a few side glances. Tamamo, meanwhile, simply didn't care, she was just doing what her husband wanted.

The Celtic knight shot a brief, lingering glare toward Berserker before leaping away, his form blurring as he vanished into the night.

Hidden in the shadows, Kariya Matou grimaced and tugged on Berserker’s bond like a leash on a barely restrained beast. “Back, Berserker. We’re not ready for this yet.”

With a furious, echoing growl, Berserker finally retreated. His monstrous form dissolved into the darkness, black mist scattering into the night.

Just as he was leaving, pain lanced through Kariya’s body, Crest Worms thrashing inside him. He collapsed to his knees, gasping in the dark where no one could see.

The battlefield fell still. Only the distant waves and the wind over the water remained.

Saber, still in a guarded stance, turned her head slightly toward the ones who had intervened. “Why did you help me? What is all of your intent, King of Conquerors. And to you, Caster.” She demanded, wary of hidden motives.

“Hmph. I simply was doing my husband's bidding. I could care less about you.” Tamamo replied rudely, flicking her tail with pointed disinterest.

“I just felt like helping you. That is all.” Rider answered with a booming laugh, as if that were the most natural reason in the world.

Then his attention shifted, drawn like a magnet.

Rider turned his gaze fully onto Issei, an enormous grin plastered across his face. “Hyoudou! You have the heart of a warrior and the soul of a dragon. I like that. Join me! Together, we’ll conquer this world and beyond! There’s always room in my army for a man like you!”

Issei blinked, caught off guard by the sudden recruitment offer. “Uh… yeah, no. Not into the whole world-conquering thing.”

Rider blinked once, then barked out a laugh that echoed across the docks. “Not into it? Every great man dreams of conquest!”

Issei’s expression shifted.

He stood straighter, eyes hardening with full seriousness and determination. That look alone made Tamamo very hot and bothered, her cheeks subtly coloring as she watched him.

“I don't care about conquest but listen here, I am the man who will be Harem King!” he shouted to the heavens, voice ringing across the battlefield.

The reaction was immediate.

Saber, Irisviel, and even Lancer in the distance stiffened, eyes widening. The others hidden in the shadows, watching through familiars and scopes, were equally stunned by the audacity of the idiot boldly proclaiming his life goal in the middle of a war.

Tamamo snorted with laughter, absolutely delighted. “That's so darling!”

“Then join me and you can have all the women you want.” Rider offered, dead serious, as if this were a reasonable counterproposal.

“I refuse. For I will do it by myself with my own efforts.” Issei shot back without hesitation. There was no pride in conquest in his voice. Just stubborn, earnest determination.

Rider slapped Issei’s back with enough force to nearly knock him over. “You’re a strange one, Hyoudou! But I respect that! Should we meet as enemies, I expect nothing less than your all!”

Issei grinned. “You’ll get it. Promise.”

“Goodbye for now! I hope to enjoy our next meeting.” Rider then looked down at his Master, who had been completely forgotten in all the chaos. “Boy, you got anything nice to say to the ladies?”

Unfortunately, the boy was knocked out cold, slumped in the chariot.

Issei glanced at Waver and winced. ‘Man, I feel sorry for that guy.’

“Sigh. I do wish he'd man up a little. Farewell!” With a hearty laugh, Rider steered his chariot away, wheels sparking as they lifted, vanishing into the darkness of the sky.

Tamamo twirled a charm between her fingers, watching them go. “You could’ve had that harem you always wanted, you know.”

Issei deadpanned. “Absolutely not. I shall do it with my own hands. Plus I don't want to conquer the world. Hard Pass.”

Sherri’s voice echoed dryly in his mind. “Strategically, you missed an excellent alliance opportunity.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Issei muttered, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He soon turned to face the two women still watching him carefully.

Saber tensed, wondering if he was about to order an attack now that the field had thinned.

“Tell your husband to stop pointing his gun at me.” Issei said with seriousness, while pointing in a direction.

It was true, Kiritsugu had his scope trained squarely on Issei’s head, ready to blow it off the moment he made a wrong move toward Irisviel.

Issei calling him out and nailing his position, made Kiritsugu’s eyes widen behind the scope. In an instant, his advantage as an unseen threat was ruined.

“Yeah, and that other woman helping him too, or else I won't be so kind and will kill them both.” Tamamo added sweetly, looking in two different directions at once as if she saw them both. She had no idea where Assassin was and didn’t particularly care, but the threat was very real.

With that, Caster snapped her fingers.

Illusion magic spread like a veil over them, bending light and perception. In the span of a heartbeat, their presence blurred, their forms slipping from both human eyes and Assassin’s watchful gaze.

By the time anyone recalibrated their sights, Issei Hyoudou and Tamamo-no-Mae were already gone.

————-----------------------------------------

“Guess we should go home! Since we finally had a good look at our enemies.” Tamamo remarked, hands folded behind her head as they walked through the quiet streets. Her illusion still wrapped around them like a soft veil, making the late-night city seem emptier than it really was, cars passed, people walked by, yet no one spared them so much as a glance.

Issei wanted to agree. He really did. But his feet slowed instead, his expression tightening as something tugged at the back of his mind.

“Sherri,” he called out, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

Tamamo paused a step ahead, ears flicking as she turned to look at him.

“Yes, Master,” Sherri answered at once, her voice calm and clear in his mind.

(Partner, what are you thinking?) Ddraig’s deep rumble followed, more curious than annoyed.

Issei stared down at his left hand for a moment, watching the faint glow of the Boosted Gear’s jewel pulse and fade. “You said Berserker’s Master was sick.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Sherri replied, “but yes. His body is in a state of severe deterioration.”

“Do you know where he is?” Issei asked, lifting his gaze toward the distant rooftops and dark zones of the city, as if he could spot the man just by wanting to.

“I do.” No hesitation. No uncertainty. The AI had already tracked mana signatures and Servant connections while the battle unfolded.

Issei’s jaw tightened.

He remembered the moment clearly, Gilgamesh’s rage, the rain of weapons, the killing intent crushing down on him. And then when Berserker had appeared, charging straight at the King of Heroes. He knew the mad dog didn’t jump in for his sake… but the result was the same.

In the end, that interference had helped him.

“Can you tell us where?” Issei asked quietly.

Tamamo let out a soft sigh, shoulders drooping just a little as the pieces clicked into place. “Husband, you are too kind,” She said, though there was no real anger in her voice, only exasperation and fondness.

Her tails swayed behind her, and she gave him a half-lidded look that said she already knew: They were not going straight home.

—--------------

Soon enough, the couple turned down a different street, moving away from the docks and deeper into the sleeping city, following Sherri’s guidance.

“Two blocks ahead, then left,” The AI directed calmly. “The mana trail linked to Berserker’s contract is concentrated in that area.”

As they neared the location, the atmosphere seemed to grow heavier. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated the narrow back alley Sherri led them to, where the smell of damp concrete and rust lingered.

There, slumped against a grimy wall, was a man.

He was sickly pale, white hair matted with sweat, his breathing ragged and uneven. Each cough tore out of him like it hurt to exist, flecks of dark, clotted blood staining his lips and the ground beneath him. Veins bulged beneath his skin in grotesque patterns, as if something inside was crawling just under the surface.

Honestly, it was depressing to Issei.

‘This guy… this is a Master?’ He’d seen many impressive things tonight. Legends. Kings. And yet this man looked like he could barely stand, let alone command a Servant.

Just as the man’s eyes rolled back and his body went limp, Issei lunged forward on instinct.

“Whoa—hey!” He caught him before he hit the ground, the weight of the man collapsing against his chest. Up close, the man’s body felt frighteningly light, like someone who’d been hollowed out from the inside.

Tamamo’s nose wrinkled immediately.

As the man coughed again, something wet and squirming spilled from his mouth and onto the pavement, pale, writhing worms, slick with mucus and blood.

Tamamo’s expression twisted in disgust. “Ugh… how vile.”

With a flick of her fingers, a spark of pink cursefire leapt from her hand. It danced across the pavement and ignited the worms instantly. They shriveled and blackened with a faint sizzle, reduced to ash in seconds. “Disgusting,” she muttered, tail bristling.

Unfortunately, just as they were about to focus fully on helping him, the air behind them distorted.

A dark shape phased into existence, like a shadow peeling itself away from reality. Berserker emerged, black armor glistening under the dim light, his warped aura lashing out with murderous intensity.

Tamamo immediately tensed, stepping in front of Issei and the man cradled in his arms. Her mirror flashed into her hand, curses already seeping into the air as she prepared to block a charge.

The knight’s hollow eyes burned, and he let out a deranged, echoing scream as he lowered his stance and prepared to rush them.

“Stop!” Issei shouted, tightening his hold on the unconscious man. “He’s hurt. Don’t you care?!”

For a brief moment, against all logic, those words reached him.

The madness in Berserker’s eyes flickered. Not much, not enough to calm him but enough to twitch. Beneath the howling insanity, something old and buried stirred. A memory of a man who had once been a knight of unrivaled chivalry and honor.

His body locked for a heartbeat, the forward motion stalling as if someone had yanked on invisible reins. His grip flexed. His stance faltered.

But the madness was a tidal wave, and that fleeting spark of reason was only a tiny stone before it.

The growl built again, louder, more feral. He shifted, ready to charge once more.

That single moment was all Tamamo needed.

Her fingers traced swift sigils in the air, her voice low and clear. “Curse of Tranquility.”

Pink light blossomed at her fingertips and shot toward Berserker, flowing like mist around his helmet and seeping into the cracks of his armor.

The fox gave the knight an illusion of happier times, of sunlight, of a gentle presence, of a certain lady whose memory lingered like a fading dream. The battle, the King, the blood, everything slipped away, replaced by a garden only he could see.

Berserker’s furious form stilled mid-charge. His posture relaxed, not naturally, but like a marionette whose strings had been loosened. The warped aura around him softened, and after a few seconds, the dark knight’s form began to flicker, then dissolve, fading completely from sight.

The alley fell quiet again.

“Please…” Kariya stirred weakly in Issei’s arms, his voice barely a broken whisper. The sound made both of them jolt slightly in surprise.

Had he woken up?

His eyes remained shut, unfocused. This wasn’t consciousness, just delirium pushing words out of him.

“I need to save her…” He rasped, the plea torn straight out of his dying will rather than his waking mind.

Issei and Tamamo shared a look.

“Where should we take him, husband? I doubt it would be a good idea to take him to the home of the Hanas,” Tamamo said, folding her arms, her tone thoughtful despite her lingering disgust.

“That’s true,” Issei muttered. The last thing he wanted was to drag the Hanas into more danger. They were already risking enough just by sheltering him. No one should ever find out about them, not the Masters, not the Church, not anyone. It was safer to stay as far away as possible until it was time to leave this war behind.

“If the Master desires, we can simply use this man's apartment for now,” Sherri suggested calmly. “I have already located the building registered under his identity.”

“That’s as good a place as any,” Issei decided.

Adjusting his grip on Kariya, he nodded to Tamamo, and the two of them slipped back into the night, following Sherri’s directions once more, carrying the broken man safely toward whatever passed for “home” in his miserable life.

—-----------------------

The moment they arrived at Kariya’s apartment, Tamamo was already moving.

With a casual flick of her wrist, she layered the place in protection with a Boundary Fields stacked on top of one another, invisible sigils weaving over the walls and windows. Detection wards, sound barriers, concealment—within seconds, the entire room was cut off from the outside world.

Only then did Issei carefully lower Kariya onto the worn futon.

He sat down beside him, watching his breathing, making sure he was still alive. Up close, it was even worse. Kariya’s skin moved unnaturally, as if something was crawling just beneath the surface—small, wriggling bulges shifting along his neck, his arms, under his eye.

It made Issei’s stomach twist. “Sherri. What’s wrong with him?” He asked quietly.

Tamamo stepped closer as well, curiosity and distaste mixing in her expression.

Sherri’s voice responded immediately, cool and precise. “His name is Kariya Matou, Master of Berserker. Of the Matou magus family, originally called the Makiri family. Due to Kariya rejecting and running away from the family, he did not receive the formal training as a magus. When he chose to become a participant in the Holy Grail War, he could not become a formal Master.”

Issei frowned. “So how is he—?”

“The solution, at the advice of his grandfather, was to implant numerous Crest Worms into his body,” Sherri continued. “Crest Worms are a unique kind of Magic Crest of the Matou family and the personal familiars of his grandfather, Zouken Matou. They are magical energy eating worms that can channel magical energy. However, the worms are eating away at their host, causing Kariya’s health to progressively fail in exchange for significantly expanding his magic circuits and magical potential.”

Issei stared, jaw tightening as he looked at the squirming under Kariya’s skin.

“You can see them squirming under the surface,” Sherri went on. “Of course the operation  resulted in side effects from blindness in one eye, half of his limbs having become dysfunctional and distorted, resulting in a limp.”

Issei’s jaw clenched. “That’s… awful.”

Tamamo scoffed, tails flicking sharply. “Humans and their twisted ideas of power.”

Issei looked at Kariya’s pain-stricken face, the furrows carved into it by years of suffering. “We need to help him… somehow. Tamamo, please, can you?”

She folded her arms, ears tilting slightly back in thought. “There’s nothing I can do at the moment about the worms inside his body. I can remove them easily if I use some of my power, but that will create a beacon for the rest to know where we are.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if you want, I can use my Noble Phantasm to heal the damage the worms have already done. It would be a temporary solution. The moment I’ve healed him, the worms will continue to eat him alive.”

“Please do it,” Issei said at once. “After he wakes up, we’ll think of another way.”

“Understood.”

With a thought, Tamamo summoned her mirror in front of the man. The polished surface hovered over his chest, reflecting not the room—but a soft, divine light.

She used just a fraction of the Eightfold Blessing of Amaterasu, careful not to release more than necessary. Any more, and the flare of power would scream their location to every Servant in Fuyuki. Even so, the air around them seemed to hum.

Curses flowed in reverse, unweaving harm instead of dealing it.

It was a strangely beautiful sight to Issei, watching her work, the mirror glowing gently, Tamamo’s expression focused and serene.

Within moments, the man’s complexion began to change. The corpse-like pallor faded, replaced by a healthier tone. The tightness around his eyes eased. The constant strain in his breathing vanished as the worst of the pain was washed away.

Suddenly, Kariya’s eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up.

“Woah there. Don’t get up too fast. You were quite unwell before,” Issei said, steadying him with both hands.

“You!” Kariya rasped, blinking in surprise as his vision actually focused. “You’re the boy who was the Master of Caster.” The memories were hazy, but the image of the gauntleted brown haired youth at the docks still lingered through the haze of agony he’d endured using Berserker.

“Yup, and she’s right over there.” Issei pointed.

Kariya followed his gesture and froze.

Tamamo stood a short distance away, tails swaying lazily, mirror in hand. With her ethereal beauty, fox features, and kimono outlined by the dim light, she looked almost unreal. She didn’t even bother acknowledging him, eyes already turned away as if he were beneath her notice.

“What do you want? Where’s Berserker?” Kariya demanded, panic jolting through him as he tried to struggle up, instinctively readying himself for another fight.

“Hey, stop that before you summon the big guy,” Issei said quickly, pushing him back down. “You’ll have him bust through the wall.”

As Kariya forced himself upright again, more carefully this time, he suddenly realized his legs were working. His hands weren’t shaking. And when he blinked, the world was clear through both eyes.

“Wh-what happened to me?” he breathed. “I haven’t felt this great since… before the worms were placed in my body.”

But they weren’t gone. He could still feel them squirming inside him, a cold, crawling presence threaded through his flesh.

“Caster healed you,” Issei explained.

“Why?” Kariya asked, utterly confused.

“Don’t you remember? Back there, if you hadn’t summoned Berserker to attack Archer, I would’ve had to seriously fight that golden prick.” Issei shrugged. “So as a thanks, I decided to help you.”

Kariya stared at him. “I didn’t do that to help you.”

“Oh, I know.” Issei smiled faintly. “But in the end, you did help me.” His smile faded as he remembered the worms. “Unfortunately, she couldn’t take the worms out. But don’t worry, we’re going to find a permanent solution,” he declared, eyes firm. “We’ll get those things out of you for good.”

“No.”

The sharp refusal took Issei off guard. “What? But… if we don’t, you’ll die!”

“I know,” Kariya rasped, hands clenching into fists on his knees. “But these worms… they’re the only way I can stay as Berserker’s Master. Without them, I lose everything.”

Issei stared, stunned. “Why would you sacrifice your life just to stay in this war? Why is winning the Holy Grail so important that you’re willing to let these things kill you?”

For a moment, Kariya’s composure cracked. His breathing quickened, shoulders trembling as raw emotion forced its way up. “Because… it’s the only way I can save her!”

“Her?” Issei echoed, confused.

“A little girl. Her name’s Sakura,” Kariya choked out, voice frayed and desperate as the image burned in his mind of her tiny form, purple hair, terrified eyes in that pit of writhing worms. “She’s trapped… trapped with my grandfather. The things he’s doing to her… I—I can’t let it happen anymore. The Grail’s my only chance to free her. It’s the only way!”

Issei’s heart twisted at the sheer desperation in his voice. He could see it in Kariya’s eyes, the pain, the guilt, the fury turned inward, and beneath all that, an unwavering determination to save this girl no matter what it cost him.

“Then we’ll save her together,” Issei said, without a second of hesitation.

But Kariya shook his head. “You don’t understand. If I lose my connection to Berserker, I have nothing. No power. No chance at winning her freedom.”

Issei gritted his teeth, anger flaring, not at Kariya, but at the cruelty of a world that forced someone into this corner. “There has to be another way. We’ll figure it out.”

“Enough even if it kills me, I’ll see Sakura free,” Kariya whispered, a haunted look clouding his eyes.

Tamamo scoffed quietly, crossing her arms, but she didn’t interrupt. For just a moment, though, the faintest flicker of respect crossed her face.

Issei clenched his fists, determination solidifying. “Then tell me where she is and we’ll rescue her and defeat him.”

“That man can’t even be called human,” Kariya said flatly. “There’s no way we can ever defeat him. We’ll only be slaughtered.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Please leave. The next time we meet, we will be enemies, and I don’t want to hesitate when we fight.”

“But—”

“Husband, that’s enough,” Tamamo cut in. “Clearly, the man doesn’t want us to meddle in his business.”

Issei turned toward her, ready to argue, but the look she gave him, calm, firm, and unyielding, stopped him cold. He understood what she was saying without words.

“Alright,” He relented quietly.

“Thank you. I know this is no way for me to show my gratitude to the two of you,” Kariya said, looking between them. “But please understand, I do this to save her.”

He moved to the door, opened it, and quickly closed it on them, shutting himself and his resolve back inside.

The two walked away from the building in silence.

Once they were far enough, Issei finally spoke. “So… do you have an idea of how to help?”

“Maooo… Husband, you’re too kind to others. Even to your enemies.” Tamamo pouted, cheeks puffing slightly, ears flicking in irritation. “Honestly, I’m worried one day someone will use your kind heart and hurt you.”

“Sorry,” Issei apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I know I’ll have you to help me when that happens.”

“Sheesh.” She looked away, tails swishing. “You’re lucky your wife is so capable of handling the desires of such a selfish man. But this is why I love and adore you.” She sighed. “I know you want to give him hope, but clearly, that man’s grandfather has him traumatized. So here’s what we’ll do.” Her eyes glinted. “We’ll simply save the girl without his consent. Then that man will look ridiculous for regretting your kind offer.”

“But we don’t even know where she is?” Issei said honestly, frowning.

The moment he said it, Tamamo just stared at him as if he were the biggest fool in the world. “Husband. Did you forget we have Sherri?”

Issei scratched his head awkwardly. “…Oh. Right.”

Tamamo let out an exaggerated sigh. “Such a foolish man I married,” She said, shaking her head, but there was warmth in her voice.

“Hehehe. Where is she, Sherri? And what can you tell me about her?” Issei asked, focusing on the Dimensional Watch.

“Honestly, Master, how can you forget about my existence?” Sherri replied dryly.

“Sorry,” He said again.

“Follow here,” she instructed. The two adjusted course, quietly moving through the streets as Sherri began to explain. “Born as Sakura Tohsaka, one of the two daughters of Tokiomi Tohsaka—”

Issei’s eyes widened. ‘Tohsaka… Archer’s Master?’

“Like most magi, her father chose only one of his daughters to carry on his family’s tradition. Zouken Matou offered to adopt Sakura with the intention of training her as the successor of the Matous’ magecraft. As a result of her natural abilities, she’s been subjected to endure the harshest and cruelest training under Zouken by making her take daily dips into a worm-infested pit, to make her the perfect vessel.”

Tamamo’s eyes narrowed. “A vessel. A vessel for what?”

She never got an answer. Because at that moment, she felt it—an inferno of power erupting from Issei’s body.

Rage.

Tamamo quickly reacted, her curses instantly wrapping around him to smother the flare before anyone could sense it. But even dampened, the pressure that leaked out was more than any normal human should be capable of.

—-------------------------------

They soon arrived at an old European-style mansion in the middle of a neighborhood, its silhouette looming against the night sky like a relic from another era. Iron gates, half-rusted and overgrown with ivy, framed the entrance. The windows were dark, but the building itself felt alive, like something rotten was festering inside its walls.

Issei stared at it in silence, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles hurt. “Sherri, where exactly is she right now?” He asked, his voice cold in a way Tamamo rarely heard from him.

“Underground,” Sherri replied at once. “Beneath the central structure. Depth approximately ten meters.”

Issei exhaled slowly, hatred simmering just below the surface. “Good.” His eyes hardened. “Tamamo, burn this place to the ground,” He ordered, his tone sharp with fury as he granted her more of his power. The jewel on the Boosted Gear flashed, and the Dimensional Watch flickered in tandem, dumping a surge of energy into her.

“Hai,” Tamamo responded, her voice devoid of its usual playfulness. Not a trace of teasing remained, only quiet, focused wrath. She didn’t argue. This time, she wanted it too.

She stepped forward, sleeves falling back as she raised her hands. Her three tails spread out behind her like a fan, every strand of fur standing on end. Pink and crimson sigils bloomed at her feet, then expanded to wrap around the mansion like a vast, invisible net. Curses laced with divine fire gathered with each breath she took, the air growing thick and electric.

The ground trembled.

A pillar of spiritual pressure swelled around them, compressed and focused into the mansion’s foundations. Foxfire flickered in the cracks between stones. The night itself seemed to recoil.

All around the city, Masters and Servants alike felt the mass of energy being released.

Kiritsugu froze mid-motion in his hotel room, cigarette halfway to his lips, eyes narrowing as an unfamiliar magical signature spiked on the edge of his awareness.

Rider’s grin widened on his chariot as the gust of power washed over him. “Ho! Someone’s angry tonight.”

Waver shivered. “Wh-what is that?”

Within Tohsaka Manor, even Tokiomi Tohsaka paused, his wine glass trembling faintly in his hand as he turned toward the direction of the surge. “What…?”

“So that’s where you are, clown,” Gilgamesh sneered from his perch, crimson eyes glinting with predatory interest as he felt that same flare. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. “When daybreak comes, I will begin my hunt.”

 Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.